The Watching Brown Eye
by somethingcool
Summary: Kyle is accosted by a supernatural stalker. Will he free himself from its perverse tyranny? Will Stan help him or will he be too busy complaining about being left at Craig's party?


Kyle's first assumption, upon spotting a naked man skulking a little way ahead of him, was that he was about to become some sort of statistic. There was no chance of running for help – it was three in the morning and he was completely alone in the desolate shopping district of South Park. If only they'd kept the Wallmart open, maybe he could have fled there. Buying twenty copies of Timecop seemed like a fair trade for his life. Hell, he'd even buy a hundred copies. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys and lodged the blade of one between the clenched fingers of his fist. If the naked guy pulled anything on him – which seemed pretty logical, or as close to logical as you could get in South Park – then he'd at least take that fucker's eye out.

He inhaled deeply and kept walking, casting fearful glances at the naked figure, which was huddled over by the TV store. Kyle wondered if he was jerking off. With a shudder, he sped up. He didn't want to disturb a sexually-driven freak in the middle of...whatever he was doing standing around South Park, late at night, naked.

He was almost parallel with the man now, although safely on the other side of the street. He stole another glance at the man. His keys hit the floor with a clatter.

The man was bending over with his legs spread, his hands pulling his ass cheeks apart. But what Kyle saw was way worse than Goatse. Instead of an ass hole, the man had an eye – a huge, staring eye. There was only one explanation and only one response. Cartman had slipped him drugs again and he was hallucinating. So now it was time to let the drugs wear off and plot ways to make Cartman miserable. Cheered, Kyle picked up his keys and ambled home.

After a few hours, tossing and turning and not sleeping very peacefully, Kyle gave up on rest and turned to revenge. He sat up, his head swimming, and adjusted his plan: first coffee, then revenge. He returned to his room with a steaming cup, too scalding to even sip, but the notes of cloves and cinnamon were sufficient to invigorate him enough to manage the complex task of switching on his computer.

Whilst it booted up, he brewed over what manner of revenge would best suit the crime. He knew Cartman's weaknesses pretty well (being fat, being ginger, his mom's promiscuity, not getting to go to Casa Bonita, penguins...), the problem was picking which to exploit. Still being half-asleep, he decided to go for an easy one. A few clicks on his computer and it was complete. With a snigger at Cartman's future reaction, he went back to bed and slept peacefully until his phone went off.

"EY!" Cartman screamed down the line. "What the fuck, Jewboy?" In the background, Kyle heard laughter and bed springs squeaking.

"Does your mom have friends over again?" Kyle asked, as innocently as he could manage.

"Why the fuck did you send strippograms to my house?"

"Why the fuck did you slip me hallucinogenics?" Kyle retorted.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Cartman sounded genuinely confused, but Cartman was both an expert liar and incredibly dumb. Kyle should have known better than to perplex him with polysyllabic words.

"You know. Fuck, I could have died."

"I wish you had!" Cartman snarled. He paused. "So someone drugged you, huh?"

"Like you don't know the answer to that."

"It was probably Stan," Cartman mused. "Trying to get into your pants again."

"Yeah, right," Kyle spat. "Hope your mom's having fun getting ploughed by Kenny's brother."

"Ey! She's just showing him her nail polish collection!"

Having exhausted Cartman's limited usefulness, Kyle hung up. That, he thought, was the end of that. The feeling of peacefulness lasted until he drew back the curtains and found himself being mooned again by the butt-eye creature. He yanked the curtains shut fast enough to give himself a friction burn and hurried over to Ike's room. Barging in without knocking, he dragged his protesting brother through into his room and pulled back the curtains.

"Do you see it?" Kyle asked, urgently. Ike looked outside, then up at Kyle.

"It's called a back yard, Kyle," he said, shaking his head. Kyle peered out. The thing was gone. He nodded and let his brother slip away. This called for expert help.

About ten minutes later, Kenny strode into his room and made himself comfortable on Kyle's bed. The curtains were closed again. Kyle hadn't dared to peek out of them since Ike left. After checking the coast was clear in the hallway outside his room, Kyle shut the door and went to sit by Kenny.

"Dude," Kenny said, grinning wickedly. "Are we going to do it?"

"Huh?" Kyle frowned. It took a moment for Kenny's meaning to sink in – he was so distracted that his normal Kenny-translation sense was broken. "What? No."

"But the door's closed, the curtains are shut, you've made sure that no-one can hear..." Kenny propped himself up with his elbows. "You want me, dude."

"I need to talk to you about something."

"You're pregnant?"

"No." Kyle stared at Kenny. "What the hell? It's about drugs."

"Ohhh," Kenny sighed, rummaging in his pockets. "Dude, you've got to let me know before I come over if that's what you want. Now I'll have to head back home-"

"No, no," Kyle said, holding his hands up in panic. "I don't want them. I think Cartman's given me some."

"Kyle, that suggests that Cartman can share," Kenny said, patiently.

"Bad drugs. I'm seeing something weird." He rubbed his arm uncomfortably. "I've seen it twice, now."

"So spill."

"It's a naked guy-"

"Is he hot?"

"Kenny, he has an eye for an asshole."

The two boys stared at each other in silence for a few moments, Kenny's lips silently repeating what Kyle said, as if trying to figure out what it could be code for. Finally, he broke the silence. "You've got some weird turn-ons."

"I don't want to see it!"

Kenny shrugged. "Okay. So sleep it off."

"I already did!" Kyle cried, burying his face in his hands. "He came back!"

"Give it time and stop stressing."

"How can you be so cavalier about this?"

Kenny cocked his head to the side. "Of all the things, in this town, a naked guy looking at you with his ass is what's broken your nerve?"

"It's just weird," Kyle mumbled.

"Take a nap," Kenny said, standing up. "I'm off to Cartman's."

"Why?" Kyle asked, lying down on his bed.

"I need a fuck-ton of whatever it is you're on."

After some not so peaceful dreams, Kyle woke up to find his best friend lying beside him in bed, flicking irritably through Kyle's academic planner. Stan looked as if the book had personally affronted him and was so absorbed in it he didn't notice Kyle rousing until after the other boy had poked him in the ribs. Stan dropped the book with a curse and then grinned at Kyle.

"Hey," he said, brushing his hair back from his face. "I heard you needed help working through some homosexual urges."

"God," Kyle spat, kicking the comforter from the bed and sitting up, intent on sending Kenny a cutting text as soon as he remembered where he'd put his phone. "Kenny would focus on the part where it was a naked guy, wouldn't he?"

"Uh." Stan blinked as Kyle glared at him. "Yes. Yes, he would. He's Kenny."

"He's an ass," Kyle said, falling back onto the mattress.

"So what's this about a naked guy?" Stan asked.

"But you just said-"

"Dude, I was joking. Kenny hasn't told me shit about you and some naked guy."

"Ugh. It's not what it sounds like."

"So tell me what it's really like."

"It's kind of fucked up."

"No shit." Stan pinched his nose. "You going to tell me or do I need to get the highlights from Kenny?"

"I was walking home last night, right..."

"Yes. As you do after blowing off Craig's party," Stan huffed. "You could have said you were leaving, you ass."

"Uh. That's a story for another time." Kyle cleared his throat. "So I was walking home through South Park and up ahead, right, up ahead..."

"...Yes?" Stan prompted.

"There's this naked guy."

"Huh. And you didn't come back to the party because?"

"Like I said, story for another time. So I prepared to beat the shit out of this guy if he tries anything-" Kyle stopped, because Stan's laughter was drowning him out regardless. Stan picked up one of Kyle's twiglike arms and waved it about.

"Dude, how were you planning on beating the shit out of this guy?"

"Fuck you."

"No, seriously, I want to know." Stan straightened his face with what looked like Herculean effort. "Do you have magical powers?" His mouth twitched. "Magical _girl_ powers?"

"Seriously, fuck you," Kyle said, punching Stan in the stomach.

"I'm sorry, Sailor Kyle," Stan wheezed. Kyle hoped he was doubled over in pain, not mirth.

"So I keep walking, ready to annihilate anyone who pisses me off," he continued. "But I keep glancing over there, because fuck, what if he suddenly sprinted at me and I was caught offguard?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't have had time to transform."

Kyle chose to ignore this latest remark and continue. "But he just stood there. Then, when I was opposite him..." He trailed off, shaking his head. Stan stopped laughing abruptly.

"Fuck," he whispered, taking Kyle's hand. "It's okay, dude, we'll go to the police station, they'll catch the guy, I'll steal something-"

"What?"

"-And then get put in jail in the same cell as him, and then beat him until he's a puddle of shit."

"Uh. Thanks, dude, but that's not necessary." Kyle shook his head. "And also seriously dumb. Why would they put you in the same cell as him?"

"I'd figure something out!"

"Yeah, okay. But he just stood there, right? Mooning me."

"Oh. Big fucking deal, dude."

"No, because he didn't have an ass hole. He had an eye there, dude! An eye!"

"The fuck?" Stan asked, his mouth hanging open.

"I know!"

"The fucking fuck?"

"That was my reaction!"

"Did you get wasted last night without me noticing?"

"No, I stuck to the coke. The real coke, I mean. I think Cartman slipped me something else, though."

"Yeah, probably." Stan stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. "So now you want a hand getting back at Cartman?"

"Already taken care of. I sent a team of male strippergrams over there. He was pissed, his mom was delighted, and Cartman's been traumatised some more."

Stan deflated. "Oh."

"But then I opened the curtains and the thing was there again! Shaking its eye at me!"

"Right."

"But when I dragged Ike over, it was gone. And Kenny was no use and told me to sleep it off. Then you came over and that's the story."

"Uh huh." Stan nodded. "Yeah. So, why'd you leave Craig's party last night?" Kyle glared at him. "Oh, come on! I was worried sick about you, dude."

"But not enough to call?" Kyle asked, trying to deflect the conversation.

"I did a few times. Then I came back here and peeked in your window."

"Stalker."

"Only to check that you were safe!" Stan protested. "I didn't, like, watch you sleep or anything!"

"Do you want a medal?"

"Please." Kyle rolled his eyes. "So why did you leave?"

"Can we focus on one thing at a time, Stan? Namely, my naked supernatural stalker? As opposed to you, my fully clothed, presumably human stalker-"

"I'm not a stalker!"

"Dude, I woke up to find you in my bed, reading my planner, and you admit to peeking in my window whilst I was sleeping. Stalker."

"I was checking what homework was due on Monday!" Stan protested, then relented. "Fine. What should we do about the assguy?"

"I have no idea."

"You're the smart one, dude. Think of something."

"I'm sorry, which of our classes relates to ass-monsters?"

"Biology?" Stan hazarded, after chewing on his lip.

"Yeah, no. Do me a favour and see if it's out there."

Stan obeyed, climbing to his feet and shoving the curtain back carelessly. From the strangled noise in his throat, Kyle guessed that the answer was affirmative. He pulled the comforter back up from the floor and huddled underneath it. He had a vague idea that some monsters were allergic to blankets. He couldn't remember which ones, how that worked, or why something so stupid was a monster's undoing, but he didn't care. That was his excuse for hiding under a blanket like a child and he was sticking to it.

"So...not a hallucination?" he asked.

"Dude, not unless Cartman drugged me, too. Which is possible, but. Uh." Kyle heard the sound of a raspberry being blown.

"Stan! You'll piss it off!"

"I just wanted to see how it would react!" The comforter was lifted up and Stan joined Kyle underneath it. "But dude, if that's what turns you on-"

"I thought we'd dropped that?" Kyle asked, testily. Stan laughed.

"Maybe it just wants to be your friend?"

"Tough. I just want it to piss off."

"Have you tried telling it that?" Stan asked, in what Kyle felt was an offensively reasonable tone.

"Um, no, because in case you've not noticed, Stan, it's a fucking monster! I don't talk to monsters!"

"No wonder it's so lonely," Stan sighed.

"Why don't you go try to be friends, then?" Kyle asked.

"Okay, sure." Stan wriggled out. Kyle pulled the sheet from his head, looking stricken.

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"It's a monster! It'll gore you or something!"

"With what, its ass?" Stan snorted.

"Maybe it has a sword for a penis or something! We don't know!"

"Doubt it. Stop stressing about male monster genitalia, dude." He straightened up and put his hands on his hips. "Anyway, I'm off to improve monster to humanity relations. Maybe I'll get a Nobel prize." He sauntered out of the room.

"It's more likely you'll get a tombstone!" Kyle yelled after him. The only response was Stan thumping down the stairs. He hurried to the window, grasping nervously at the curtains as he waited for Stan to appear. His heart pounded as Stan emerged from downstairs and waved at the monster. The monster didn't do anything but move its gaze from the window to Stan. Kyle was thankful that it seemed to not need to blink. As he watched Stan attempt conversation with the creature, he found himself wondering what would happen if it did blink – would it shit out its own eye?

Stan returned to his room about half an hour later, shaking his head in exasperation. "Whatever it is, it's not a talker," he announced. "It just stood there, looking at me. With its ass."

"So you won't be getting your prize for peace any time soon?"

"Bet I get one before you," Stan replied, making himself cosy on Kyle's bed. "I mean, I at least tried."

"And failed," Kyle reminded him. Stan looked so weary that Kyle couldn't help patting him on the shoulder. "But thanks for trying. You're my knight in stained jeans."

Stan rubbed self-consciously at the patch of mud on his trousers. Kyle tried not to wince as it flaked off on to his floor. "I forgot to change them this morning," he muttered. "And I kind of fell when I was dismounting from your house. Only a few feet!" he added, seeing the look of horror on Kyle's face. "I'm not soldiering on with a broken leg or anything."

Kyle turned back to the window. It was gone. He checked the window was thoroughly locked. With a sigh of relief, he joined Stan on the bed.

"It's pissed off somewhere," he said. "But it'll probably be back."

"You'll probably wake up with it standing over you," Stan sniggered. "Its cheeks brushing against yours."

"That is the least funny thing anyone has ever said. Ever," Kyle said, elbowing Stan.

"Poor baby. Need me to stay here and check the nasty stalker monster isn't eyeing you up whilst you sleep?"

"I do now."

"Sure." Stan grinned wickedly. "On one condition."

"Dude, how can you be bargaining now? It's because you planted those ideas that I don't want to be alone!"

"All part of my master plan," Stan said, loftily. "So tell me why you fled from Craig's party."

"Fine." Stan leaned forward. "I'll just ring Kenny and ask him to come around instead."

"Kenny?" Stan echoed.

"Yeah," Kyle said, picking up his phone. "He'll be bribed with a bag of chips or a pizza."

"He'll also try to get in your pants," Stan pointed out.

"And that is how much I don't want to talk about last night, Stan."

"All right," Stan grumbled. "Forget about it. But I want pizza."

"Deal."

"But I am your super best friend," Stan continued, with a laboured sigh. "And I tell you everything."

"I know."

"And I wouldn't leave you at a party."

"Yeah, I get it." Kyle rolled his eyes. And that, he thought, was that topic closed. Now all he had to worry about was the butt monster sneaking into his house.

Stan had always been perfectly at home in Kyle's house. There were very few of Kyle's relatives he hadn't met and most of them had found, when ringing the Broflovski residence, that there was at least a one in five chance of the person picking up the phone being Kyle's best friend. So when the doorbell rang, he happily opened it up. He hoped it was the pizza delivery guy come early. So when he was faced with an unfamiliar face, he assumed that was who it was. Sure, the guy wasn't carrying any pizza boxes, but Stan figured that delivering pizzas would be one of those repetitive jobs that made it really easy to mess up after all the tedium.

"I think you've left the boxes in the car," he said, helpfully. The stranger, who was about his age, frowned.

"What boxes?"

"The pizza boxes," Stan explained. "You are delivering pizzas, right?" The guy silently shook his head. It was Stan's turn to frown. "So what're you doing here?"

"I'm here to see Kyle," the guy said. This earned him some more scrutiny. Stan attempted to place the face amongst those he'd seen in Debating and Student Council, but the guy was a bit too bulky to be any of Kyle's fellow geeky society members.

"Why?" Stan asked, suspiciously, subtly moving to fully block the doorway. A thought struck him. "Do you have an eye instead of an ass hole?"

The guy stared at him like he was frothing at the mouth. Behind him, Stan heard someone descending the stairs. He turned and nodded at the guy outside.

"Dude, this douche is wanting to see you. Know who he is?"

A troubled look crossed Kyle's face and he hurried down. He approached the doorway, shrank back, then smiled guiltily at the guy outside.

"Know him?" the guy repeated. "We've swapped spit."

"We've, uh, met," Kyle said, avoiding Stan's accusing stare.


End file.
